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Apicem Rapax	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 2155 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

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“The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame.”
October 31, 2014
Breaking news: Tonight at a party hosted by Umbrella Inc.’s sole remaining cofounder, Ozwell E. Spencer, at the illustrious Spencer Estate a shooting occurred that has left the multibillionaire in critical condition. The suspect is in custody and has been identified by eyewitnesses as Alfred Ashford, grandson of Edward Ashford, one of the three cofounders of Umbrella Inc. alongside Lord Spencer and Dr. James Marcus. This party marked the first time that non-Umbrella employees were permitted entrance to the famed mansion. Witnesses say that Ashford came into the party unannounced and completely unexpected even by the host, and one guest quoted, “He came in, laughing like a madman and seemed determined to spread the pandemonium all around. We hoped that by ignoring him he’d simply go away, but then the shots started.” And this just in, we are receiving news that… Are you serious? Viewers, I’m getting news that someone else was injured… Captain Albert Wesker of STARS was also shot and is in critical condition. We’re being filled in that Lord Spencer sustained a gunshot wound to the chest… Captain Wesker to the… head?
The news stations had been covering the story since the first ambulance arrived, but something about the particular station that I was watching in the sitting area was making me realize how real this was. The other anchors had been pushed to focus on Spencer’s career, the mansion, Umbrella… To them Captain Wesker had been treated as an afterthought but Susan knew to do the right thing, to break away from instructions and focus on the facts of the tragedy rather than the turn this into some narrative where they got to ignore what actually happened on this night. They weren’t dead and it wasn’t right to speak of their titles over their statuses. I’d resolved to call the station myself if they had treated it like it was nothing but it was something to me damn it. When Alfred shot Spencer, Wesker didn’t jump onto the fallen man or lunge at the shooter; he grabbed me as soon as he ascertained the situation and tried to protect me. I don’t know if I would have been shot but that didn’t matter. When the paramedics arrived no one could pull me away from him, I ran outside along the stretcher, yelling that he was still breathing, but when I tried to get in the ambulance I was turned away because I wasn’t family. As the vultures arrived for their scoop, ignoring the property laws, I was found by my parents who were holding me tighter than the corset I wore. My adrenaline was through the roof and I didn’t even notice how cold it was outside, and as they squeezed me I felt unbearably hot. I pleaded that they get themselves together and take me to the hospital, I had to be there; I needed to know that the man who’d put his life on the line for my own was all right.
We’d managed to get to the hospital not long after the ambulance and I remember stupidly going through the ER entrance, chasing the paramedics until security subdued me and nurses assured me that they’d do everything they could but it was a sterile environment… Time went by without a word to me, just alerts over the intercom, possibly about Wesker and Spencer’s condition, and though I was sure that my mother had an idea what the codes meant she wasn’t telling me. This only brought me more concern and guilt. By 10:30 my parents were trying to get me to go home, their argument being that even the STARS members knew there was nothing they could do. Jill, Forest, Chris, all of them just yelled at doctors, demanding an update, but when they were given no answers they ended up wandering off one by one. Soon after Enrico had muttered something about Alfred they all left. I was almost certain that they were going to do something they’d regret at the precinct.
Somehow though, despite the tension that weighed heavily upon me I had managed to fall asleep in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting area. I awoke to a dim room that appeared to be obscured by a blue haze. Frowning to myself I pulled my phone from the pocket on my skirt. 12:00 AM, Saturday, November 1. Forgetting my mascara and eye shadow, I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to make the haze disappear, but it remained. I looked around the area, seeing no one, just the other chairs that surrounded the coffee table in front of me that held old magazines. The buzzing from one of the lights beyond the wooden, double doors sounded, and I saw it flash through the tiny space that separated them. I heard no dinging from the elevators down the hall, no messages on the PA system, and no carts being pushed. Feeling a chill come down my neck I pulled my father’s coat closed, shielding my cleavage and shoulders from the air. I got to my feet, staring down those double doors that seemed to call me, but at the same time there was something in the air that told me to stay away. One booted foot forward, I’d decided to march on, holding out my hand in front of me as I got closer to the doors. I’d intended to give a gentle push but for some reason the barrier wouldn’t budge, leaving me with no choice but to use both hands.
Once I’d applied a good amount of strength, I nearly fell through the other side, catching myself before I fell face-first into that ugly, light blue tile. Mortified at my near-blunder I looked around and stood up straight once I saw a woman rounding the corner. I’d intended to smile but what I assumed to be a nurse with her face painted in the sugar skull style for Day of the Dead. Her hair was twisted back into a bun, the white paste stopping just at the edge of her hairline. Her jawline and cheeks were contoured with darker colors to complete the skeletal look. When I finally cracked a smile she failed to return it, her pale, chapped lips set in a straight line. Though I tried to fight the urge to watch her I did just that, my eyes following her through the set of doors that she somehow managed to get through with ease. Alone once more in the hallway, I realized that I didn’t even know why I was still there. Why was I in this hallway? Something was calling me here, telling me to continue down the hallway, and with none of the uncertainty in my steps that existed in my mind I continue my trek to nowhere. The fluorescent light above me flickered frequently, buzzing loudly, the combination alone enough to make me want to figure out where I was supposed to be going.
“Catrina to the nurse’s station.” The voice over the PA was lifeless, robotic, and eerily hollow.
The nurse’s station was abandoned, bringing rise to serious doubts that Catrina would be coming anytime soon. A gift basket with various fruits and a balloon tied to it that read, “Get well soon!” was abandoned on the counter next to a clipboard. I should’ve stopped there, looked around and called for someone but that inexplicable force that had taken hold of me wasn’t letting me go. Instead, my stroll that was feeling more and more forced continued, and I let my eyes wander to see if anything at all was occurring on this seemingly dead floor. I passed by a few rooms that had their doors propped open, but most were pitch black, offering no sights or assurance that what I was even experiencing was reality. I was coming upon another room when I felt a tingling against the palm of my hand, and as though I were being led by some unseen entity I turned to enter. The room was dimmed by that same, blue haze that tinged the air of the hallway, but I could see that this room was occupied. I felt nervous about intruding, but that force continued to pull me in and I decided to stop fighting it. The beeping of the heart monitor was steady, a sign that was good but for some reason the rhythmic beats filled me with unease that was threatening to make my own heart pound.
An IV bag was blocking my view of the patient’s face, leaving me to continue my worries over this intrusion. As I took a few more steps in I saw him, my savior, lying in the bed, and the square bandage on the side of his head was beginning to stain. A large, purple bruise had formed on his left cheek from the fall, and I remembered that my arm was starting to feel sore. Now that I could see it was him I no longer felt that fear from before; now I only felt compelled to be at his side. I rounded the end of the bed and took a seat in the chair next to it. Boldly I reached up and grabbed one of his hands, squeezing slightly, possibly with the hopes of getting some automatic response, but nothing happened. I traced circle with my thumb into his warm skin, biting my lip as I stared up at his face. Sleeping he looked like a totally different person, and as idiotic as it sounded he looked more angelic than human. His blond hair was no longer slicked back neatly as it had been in our past encounters, instead it was heavy with sweat and dried blood that weighed it down so much that it was forced into a crude part down the middle of his scalp.
Slightly curled ends were touching his brow, creating a sight that was so atypical for him that I had to convince myself to resist the impulse to correct it. He was perfect, too perfect to not reach out and touch him. His eyes were the perfect blue, clear and bright, and yet they brought about a sense of mystery. Was he joking when he said some of the things he did or was he serious? His nose was straight, not too pointed, not too long, and not too narrow. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones set at just the right height, and he possessed none of that pesky baby fat that set apart the boys from the men. His lips though thin fit his face, and I realized why I was once again taking in his handsome face: I’d stopped myself from admiring him too much when we first met. He was my brother’s superior, he was a savior of Raccoon City, and he wasn’t some classmate that I could make a move on.
For just a moment I would give in, I would do what I felt I should have at that party. I scooted forward in the chair, my hand reaching out to his face, and as my fingers were mere inches from his flawless, white skin that had been marred by purple bruises I hesitated. My fingers curled back towards me as I struggled with that inexplicable fear, but I swallowed down that emotion and once again reached for him. Almost. I could feel the heat coming off of his skin now, so close, but in the corner of my eye I saw a hand reaching down to his. Afraid of being caught in an awkward position, I snatched my hand back and almost fell back into the chair, and I saw the hand do the same. In the darkness I could see the pale hand snatch back just as I’d done, disappearing into the sleeve of a purple robe.
Through the darkness I could see the robed figure take a step back, but after a few second of my staring the intruder stepped forward and I realized that it was impossible for them to have been shrouded in darkness before. The room was all tinged with that same blue haze as the others, but those corners of blackness were… illogical. As the person lifted their hands up to the hood that hid their face I saw that they belonged to an older person when just seconds ago they appeared youthful. Those hands, paper thin and pale moved up to grab the hood, exposing the mysterious person that had caught me in the act of admiring the unconscious captain.
Fear gripped my soul as I felt what seemed to be ice seized my heart mid-beat. No, no. This wasn’t right at all, something about this was so unnatural that it sent teeny vibrations through me that caused me to shiver.
As those long, boney fingers pulled back the hood I heard a sigh that couldn’t have belonged to me. Cold, gray eyes that were familiar to me locked onto my own.
My breath caught in my throat, I couldn’t see anything but those eyes, and for some reason I couldn’t even move. As my eyes began to water I blinked, turning away as I did so. When I looked back I saw Lord Spencer standing over Wesker, still looking down at me, a sad smile on his thin, dry lips. “What are you doing here? You were-”
“A flesh wound Miss Redfield. Albert, however, was not so fortunate. At least he’s breathing on his own,” he mused. His fingers brushed against the dirty bandage, the audaciousness of the act causing me to sit up straight in the chair and tense. Of course what was I going to do about it? Dropkick an old man?
Wait a minute… “You took more than a flesh wound,” I whispered, recalling that the fall alone should have resulted in broken bones, bruises to his face, or something that would have him in much worse shape than he appeared to be in.
He gave a single laugh, reaching into the pocket of his robe and pulling out a syringe. “Oh I hate to do this,” he lamented, “but Albert has gotten himself into quite the predicament this time. No amount of pills can fix this.”
“Wh-wh- what are you doing?” I stuttered, lifting myself up to my feet.
“What I must to save him. He barely made it through the surgery, there’s no way he’ll come out of the coma. At least not fully functioning,” he added with a sad glance to the blond. “It must be done.” As those fading eyes redirected their gaze to mine he said calmly, “You see, Albert is my son.”
I’d never been hit with so few words that managed to smack me with the weight of a full-sized dictionary. All I could ask was, “Does he know?” the volume of my voice rising far above what I would initially allow.
Scoffing, he barked, “Of course he knows; you think I’d tell some random child and not him?” Though he saw that he’d insulted me he continued with, “But I can tell that Albert has taken a liking to you, and so I shall allow you to stay.” While I processed that bit of information he quickly jammed the syringe into his arm, drawing out his blood. A black liquid slowly filled the barrel, its texture thicker than blood, and the incredulity of this moment kept me frozen in place with a myriad of emotions swirling within me.
When he finished drawing from his arm he reached for Wesker’s, the move making me jump. I moved to walk around the bed with the intention of stopping him but his free hand shot up to make a gesture for me to stop, and for some reason I did. Mid-stride I was standing there, unable to go any further. And then I felt a calm come over me, a feeling that said it was all right.
The elderly man lowered his hand, holding Wesker’s wrist as he plunged the needle into his IV. The black fluid was ejected from the syringe, and I swore I saw the veins of the captain’s arm pulse and glow with a bright red. Then that haze seemed to thicken, engulfing everything around me, until it finally enveloped me.
I awoke once more in the waiting area, my eyes having to be pried open physically due to the difficulty I was having. It must have all been a dream, a really bad dream. However, sometimes I wasn’t too sure, and this was not going to be the exception. I jumped up from my chair and ran through the doors, the ease with which they swung open making it seem more likely that it was all a nightmare. There was no blue haze, the nurses’ station was bustling, and as I neared the room that I thought to be the captain’s I was met with the sight of two officers standing at the closed door. Nervously I took a step towards them, noticing that the two men were vaguely familiar, and more than likely they knew me. “Is he…?” I trailed off, unsure of what to even ask.
The one to the right nodded at me, leaning over to open the door. “Make it quick Miss Redfield.”
“Thank you.” My tone was full of sincerity, and I made a note to never forget that kindness. Once I’d entered I heard the door close behind me, and I was met with the same scene that I’d walked into last night, the only difference being the absence of fog. Despite the nagging that I felt eating away at my brain about how I knew the location of his room I tried to ignore it, but every detail was the same. His heart was beating at the same rate, that chair was exactly the same and in the same position, that same bruise flawed that same side of his face, and his bandage was stained with the same amount of blood. Though I had all of these details reemerging to the top of my mind I kept walking towards the bed; if it was all real then… I leaned over slightly, placing a hand on his face, his skin cool to the touch. With the palm of my hand pressed into his cheek I caressed his face with my thumb, and I sighed in relief when I saw his chest rise and fall with his deep breaths. My other hand searched for his and I grabbed it tightly. Ever since I’d arrived at the hospital I just wanted to thank him for saving my life.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he died. He was a decorated officer, he’d managed to accomplish much in his life, the city looked up to him, and because he was trying fulfill his duty to serve and protect he was lying here in a coma. All I’d suffered were a few bruises but he was at Death’s door. And there was nothing that I could do… “I don’t know if you can hear me,” I started, already choking back tears and struggling to keep my voice strong and steady, “but I just want to say thank you. Thank you for saving me. Don’t give up Wesker. If you were willing to die for me… then I’m asking you to be willing to live for me too.” Inhaling sharply I leaned down to him, pressing my lips against his forehead before resting my own against his. Were my actions appropriate? Who gave a fuck? No one had done anything like that for me before. I’d saved Dawson and Ty’s lives a few weeks ago and got no gratitude for my bravery and efforts, but I refused to deny someone their deserved due. “I am not leaving this hospital until you wake up,” I whispered.
Then I felt it, the twitch of his fingers. It started out so small and subtle that I thought I was imagining it, but then I could feel him squeezing my hand. It was soft but damn it I felt it. As if I’d been struck by lightning I shot up and hit the nearest red button I could find on the hospital bed, not letting go of his hand. “Someone get in here!” I called, feeling his grip grow stronger. Then his eyes began to open slowly, the brightness causing him to squint. “Captain Wesker?” I leaned over him again, catching his gaze and smiling wider than I thought I was capable of.
“Claire?” Before I could confirm his identification his eyes snapped to the ceiling, his chest rose once as he took in a quick breathe, and he seemed to freeze up in that position.
I felt my breathing speed up as the monitor lost its rhythm, the dreaded flat line piercing the air of the hospital room. “No, no, no!”
Then his chest fell, his body began shaking violently, and the monitor came to life with beeps so rapid that there was barely any rest between them. As his body continued to shake I realized that his grip on my hand had not diminished…
Where were those fucking cops?!
I heard people behind me fussing, nurses and doctors giving orders while one or two simultaneously asked me what happened, but I couldn’t answer when I didn’t even know. They rushed around me, trying to convince me to leave, but I couldn’t let go of his hand, and he wasn’t letting go of mine.
I heard one of the cops calling to me before he lifted me up and pulled me away from the bed, but the hold that Wesker and I had on one another was too strong. I heard more yelling, more orders from the staff, and suddenly Wesker’s body stilled, and I no longer felt him gripping my hand. As his body went limp his head rolled to the side, his blue eyes staring directly into my own, and the cop finally pulled me away. As his hand slipped from mine I felt my heart drop, fearing that this was it for him.
I was forced to go back to the waiting area and in that spare time I decided to text Chris and my parents to update them although I wasn’t sure what to say. All I could tell them was, “He woke up but something happened. They made me leave the room.” It didn’t take long for Chris to bombard my phone with messages asking if he was all right and if they needed to come down, but I assured him that when I needed to leave that I would contact them. When I finally got the time I checked my voicemail, hearing a badly sung rendition of the birthday song by Amanda, and I realized that I’d completely forgotten that I had turned nineteen yesterday. The dark events had completely overshadowed what was supposed to be my night of getting drunk being able to let everyone connected to me through social media know that I was at the Spencer Halloween Bash. Sure I could still claim that, but then I’d probably be up to my ears in questions, and I really didn’t care to rehash it. Speaking of which Amanda hadn’t text me to ask if I was okay, but I didn’t expect her to watch the news to find out anyhow. Ty, however, had sent me a text questioning my whereabouts, probably more concerned about birthday sex than anything.
As I decided to put my phone away and pretend he’d never texted me I heard footsteps coming towards me, and I looked up to see two nurses in their scrubs stop before me.
The blonde nurse looked around quickly before nodding to the brunette next to her.
Brunette Nurse seemed uncomfortable as she stared me down. “What happened back there?”
Surprised that they forewent asking how or why I was in there I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, my curls shockingly holding up still. “He woke up I guess…” I didn’t know what to say to them. I’m sure there were right and wrong answers but they weren’t giving me any hints.
“You went in there and he suddenly wakes up and then goes into cardiac arrest.”
I remembered hearing that the percentage of people who survive cardiac arrest is extremely slim, and before I knew it I had lost my shit. “Oh my God is he okay?!”
The blonde nurse answered quickly, “By some miracle he’s stable. Now, tell us what happened? That man died three times on the operating table, he shouldn’t still be alive and he shouldn’t have woken up as quickly as he did. What happened?” I couldn’t tell if they were angry at me or what, but if they were that made no sense. Perhaps they felt that I’d made their job harder, but there was no way in hell that my presence could have affected a man that was in a coma.
Yet as their glares proved to be unyielding I caved recalled what happened last night, and now that I knew it couldn’t have been a dream I blurted out, “Maybe you should ask Dr. Spencer! He was in the room last night, he-”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Brunette Nurse snapped. “Dr. Spencer has been in his room since he left the OR last night and he hasn’t woken up since.”
There was no point in asking her to repeat herself; I was sure that she wasn’t going to change her response, but it seemed that I had to change mine. If it was all a nightmare then how did those details match up exactly to what I’d dreamed?
The blonde opened her mouth to say something but her phone dinged, prompting her to check it. She elbowed Brunette Nurse who gave me a parting glance that was meant to tell me to stay put. As they disappeared through the doors I hear them begin to whisper, about what I wasn’t sure, but not too long after they left a male doctor came out.
He seemed to be preoccupied with a chart in front of him. “May I help you with something ma’am?”
I supposed it was odd that I was just standing there in front of the door, but I wasn’t really concerned with my placement in the hospital right now. Since it would have been rude to ignore him I said, “I’m just waiting.”
“Which patient?” he asked.
“Albert Wesker.”
Unexpectedly he said, “Oh yes, he’s free to go.”
My eyes were so wide that they began to water, forcing me to blink hard. “I’m sorry but I meant Captain Albert Wesker.” Surely he’d heard me wrong.
“Yes,” he repeated, “Captain Albert Wesker? Of STARS? He was just cleared to leave.”
Folding my arms over my chest I shook my head a few times, “That-that’s not possible.” In a firm voice I made sure to repeat the details of his hospitalization. “Albert Wesker just woke up from a coma. He sustained a gunshot wound. To his head,” I added clearly. “The nurses said he died three times in the OR. He just went into cardiac arrest.”
“Yes.” He nodded once, staring at me as though I wasn’t understanding what he was saying.
He might as well have been right; I heard the words but I wasn’t understanding how he could be speaking them
“You can go see him but he should be getting dressed at the moment-”
I gave him no time to finish. Fed up with what had better been a sick, cruel joke I pushed him aside, hearing him call out something after me. I didn’t give a shit if he took it as assault; he’d just said really unbelievable things to me that couldn’t have been true and I wasn’t in the mood. I saw the cops from this morning standing around the nurses’ station drinking from Styrofoam cups, and they nodded to me with smiles on their faces. I picked up my pace, almost running to reach Wesker’s hospital room. When I rounded the corner I saw him pulling a black, V-neck sweater over his head, stopping at the sight of the muscles beneath his skin. I was even a sucker for deep dorsal lines, obviously any part of a man that was well-toned. His jeans seemed to be just a bit too loose for him and they hung low, a detail that gave me the chance to see the indentations on his lower back that I refused to refer to as dimples when a man possessed them. I found myself wondering what the front looked like, but I scolded myself. What was important right now was finding out what the hell he was doing.
Before I could alert him to my presence he turned around, his eyes quickly going over me before he returned to the task of getting dressed. He turned around and plopped back down on the bed, grabbing a pair of boots and shoving them on. As he tied them he absentmindedly asked, “Have you been here all night?”
Noticing the fresh, white bandage on the side of his head I took a step forward. “Yes. And I don’t think you should be leaving.”
My two cents was ignored as he got to his feet and grabbed the zip-up jacket from the chair I could’ve sworn I’d occupied last night.
“I’m fine,” he muttered quietly, zipping up the jacket. He reached down into the chair once more and produced a pair of sunglasses that he immediately placed on his nose, ignoring the fact that there was no need for them. As if I wasn’t standing there he started forward.
Holding my hands up I reminded him of what happened last night, hoping that he truly had no clue what was going on. Maybe he thought it was a flesh wound, maybe he was experiencing some weird brain damage that made him incapable of feeling the amount of pain that I was sure he should have felt. “You were shot!”
Still walking towards me he repeated more clearly, “I’m fine.”
He was a foot away from me and as he closed in I pushed at his chest, managing to stop him in his tracks, but he stared down at me as though I was more of a pest than a person. “This is the last time I’m repeating this story to anyone,” I seethed, unsure of why I was angry. “You were shot in the head, you died three times on the operating table, you were in a coma, and you just miraculously recovered from cardiac arrest. You should be here in the hospital!” I finished loudly, feeling my face grow hot as I realized how confused I was. This was frustrating to me that everyone was acting like this was normal, like he could just get up and leave after all of that without requiring any monitoring. My chest was heaving, an embarrassing thing that I pretended not to notice, but I was sure that he had.
His gaze softened and he instantly changed the mood of the conversation by asking, “Where do you live?”
My face scrunched up in bewilderment as I answered, “Cherry Creek.”
“I’m in Applewood.” Without expanding on why that mattered he walked right past me, but it didn’t take me long to catch up with him.
“Wesker!” I called after him. Through the whole elevator ride downstairs I was trying to convince him to stay, to elect to be monitored. When he began showing signs of a headache I became even more worried, chasing after him as he headed through the front doors. We stopped in front of a black limo with tint designed to hide the inside completely.
The driver who had been leaning against the vehicle put out his cigarette and opened the door. “‘Morning Mr. Wesker,” he greeted, his tone showing that the two of them were familiar.
As I saw him nod to the driver I stopped and asked, “What the fuck is going on?”
His hand resting against the top of the open door, Wesker turned to me, unperturbed by my question and language. “Cherry Creek is three minutes away from Applewood; did you want a ride home or not?”

I give, I thought to myself, scoffing. I slid into the car, scooting over until I was at the other side.
Soon after, Wesker slid in as well, closing the door behind him. He sat across from me quietly, pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling up and down on the screen. He sure did know how to make me feel silly too.
While he checked on his messages I was sitting there throwing a fit about him making a decision for himself in regards to his wellbeing. However, I had a right to be skeptical at the least; this wasn’t normal, something was going on and I wanted to know what it was exactly. So I told the driver we were stopping at his place first, because I wasn’t going to let him go inside and faint while no one was around. When we arrived at the gated community, he had to lean out the window to punch in the security code as I’d expected. Cherry Creek was upscale, but Applewood was supposedly where visiting movie stars would rent their houses. From what I’d heard the houses were very modern with more windows than necessary providing a view into overpriced homes that looked like a kid’s Lego project. Everyone in Applewood had a spacious backyard with pools and Jacuzzis, everyone left their curtains open because they felt safe and possibly wanted to show off, and rumor had it barely any kids existed in this community.
As we drove through the neighborhood I saw a young couple jogging together, the grins on their faces saying that they had just finished agreeing about how perfect they were. An older gentleman shuffled to his mailbox a little farther down, waving as we passed by in the limo. As we neared the end of this street I saw Wesker put his phone away, and as I expected the car came to a stop in front of a white house with a black, metal roofing material. The first half of the house was one story while the second half had two.
He moved to get out of the limo without a word to me, but I quickly got out behind him and followed him up the walkway. We passed by the two door garage and came to the first of three sets of steps. For a moment he lingered at the bottom, seeming to think on whether or not it was a good idea to attempt the climb. After maybe fifteen seconds of deliberation he finally took a step up, pacing himself while I stayed close behind him. Did I want to have to catch him if he fell? No, but I really didn’t have much of a choice since that dick driver wasn’t leaving the car. The house had more windows than it did walls, and despite the lights being out there was a clear view inside thanks to the sunlight. I could see a living room with an expensive, white carpet that was occupied by a black, leather U-shaped sofa to my right, to the left of the house I saw the inside of a kitchen that was pretty impressive. I heard him unlocking the arched, wooden double doors though, and when he slipped inside I was quick to follow, lest he decide to lock me out.
Once inside I followed him up a set of black stairs that weren’t connected or set into the floor, but rather set into the wall, but at least he had a rail. I was quick to employ the use of the rail as well; I didn’t trust these things, and I didn’t look forward to going back down them later either. When we made it upstairs he appeared to be a bit winded and made his way down the hallway until he reached the final room.
He finally seemed to relax when we stepped into a large bedroom. He flicked a switch on the wall that caused a set of blackout curtains that were accompanied by a whirring sound to cover the windows. The room became dim and it would be completely dark if the bedroom door hadn’t been open. Set in the center of the room was a black-sheeted bed that was elevated by a white, circular platform. When he stepped on it to sit on the mattress the platform came alight with a light blue, making me feel like I wasn’t used to any luxuries. I neared him as he removed his boots and sat up against the cushioned headboard with his hands up as though he were questioning my presence.
“Go home Claire,” he said in that chillingly, deep voice.
“Why?” I asked as I neared the center of the room. “So I can be reminded why my mom aspires to work so hard when I go back to our… normal house?” The air was thick with tension, and I realized that perhaps I should not have mentioned his home. It stumped me that he could afford this house when I was sure that it had to be over one million dollars. Then that dream came back to me. Before I could stop myself I asked, “Is Spencer your father?”
Instantly he inquired in a defensive tone, “Who told you that?”
“He did… I think…” I wasn’t sure why I added that last bit in.
“You’re tired Claire,” he said more calmly.
So he wasn’t denying it, but he wasn’t confirming it either, and I really needed to know if anything that I witnessed was real last night. Honestly I wanted him to deny it, to tell me no and thereby confirm that what happened was merely a nightmare. Or maybe I did go to his room last night and I was just half asleep, maybe I wasn’t sure anymore of what was real and what wasn’t because I was so tired. Oftentimes I did dream something but felt that it was real and someone had to tell me otherwise.
“Captain Wesker-”
“Call me Al,” he interjected, “I’m not your captain. If you insist on maintaining some form of formality then at least simply call me Wesker.”
Nervously I tried again. “Wesker, there’s no way it’s medically possible that they let you leave the hospital today.”
Vexed by my refusal to let it go he said for the hundredth time, “I’m fine.”
“You say that but you don’t seem like it.”
“Claire just go.”
“Wesker you saved my life!” I nearly yelled. “So you telling me you’re fine isn’t good enough to keep me off of your back. You have no idea how much I owe you, and I’m not going to pretend that I don’t. So if I have to be here every day to check on you then I will. Now tell me are you hungry?”
He wasn’t but that didn’t stop me from going downstairs to his kitchen that was as modern as the rest of his house. As I looked through all of his brown cabinets overhead I began to become irritated that I had to hunt for a can of soup. I came across the bowl and the pot first, until I finally managed to find a can of chicken noodle in the last cabinet with other canned goods. The electric stovetop set into one of the cabinets heated up quickly, and I made sure to wash the pot out thoroughly as I didn’t wish to upset the Zen or whatever the fuck he had going on over here. When I got back up those suspicious stairs and got to his room I presented him with the bowl but he set it onto the stand that protruded from the side of his headboard.
His enforced silence left me standing before him feeling quite silly that I was still in costume, and I was pretty sure that after a whole night I looked crazy. “You can go now Claire.”
It took me a while to admit that I probably should leave. “Wesker?”
His brow jerked up.
“Thank you again for saving me. And I owe you a lot more than chicken noodle, but if you don’t want me to bother you then I have no choice but to respect that.”
After a moment of pause he said, “Thank you Claire.”
Taking that as a positive response I nodded to him and backed out of the room. As I left his house I found myself once again wondering exactly what was going on here. To quell my inquisitiveness I promised myself something that seemed to ease my mind just a bit so I could sleep tonight: I would be back. After all, even if this whole thing hadn’t been so interesting… he most certainly was.
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Apicem Rapax